


Out of Control

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Angst, Community: cliche_bingo, Dubious Consent, M/M, Other, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Merlin tries to pretend that he's dreaming, that the evil spirit possessing his body is not lying to Arthur with Merlin's lips, telling him the words that should be coming from Merlin, words that Arthur apparently wants to hear</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Control

**Author's Note:**

> [[Written for Cliché Bingo 2009. Cliché: Posession/Mind Control ]] Because everything written in the last week of the challenge has to be in excess of 1000 words, or something, who the hell _knows_ what's going on in my mind.

Merlin's hands move on their own, against his will. He can see them but can't stop them as they reach up and stroke the curve of Arthur's jawline, fingertips just barely skimming over his skin. He stares at them, stares at Arthur suddenly so silent and still, and for a moment Merlin almost thinks that the invading demon has abandoned him, leaving Merlin in control of his own body once more. He's wanted Arthur for so very long --

But when he tries to move away, to tell Arthur to go to bed and get some sleep, his body ignores his instructions. He's not in control.

"Merlin," Arthur says, swallowing, his face a little bit flushed. "What are you---"

Merlin tries to pretend that he's dreaming, that the evil spirit possessing his body is not lying to Arthur with Merlin's lips, telling him the words that should be coming from Merlin, words that Arthur apparently wants to hear.

And the feel of Arthur's lips on his, the way that Arthur cradles Merlin's head in his open palms, pressing closed-mouthed kisses onto Merlin's jaw, is almost too much. His body returns Arthur's kisses, pulls the other man closer, and Merlin can feel his heart breaking as he struggles to regain control. He knows that this is not a night he'll ever forget, not a night Arthur will ever forget -- but oh, how Merlin wants to forget it.

-

It takes him a fortnight to break the spirit's control over his body, and when it happens, he has a few seconds in Gaius's workroom as the other man prepares the sleeping draught for Morgana.

Merlin spits out, "Gaius, this isn't me--" words he's been dying to say ever since he exited the cave with a stranger in control of his body.

Gaius turns and stares at him.

"Something," Merlin says, realizing that he's about to lose control once more. "Else -- in control of my--"

And then the thing wrests his tenuous control away, and Merlin finds himself in the back of his own mind, his lips denying any such thing to Gaius. "It was a dream I had," his traitorous mouth says, even though Merlin is crying and screaming the opposite. This is not a dream, this is a nightmare, and it is happening for real.

-

And then Arthur almost dies. Of course he does, someone new is trying to kill him every other week an faulty armor and magical beasts during the down times in between, because Arthur's an idiot and now he can't even depend on Merlin to magick him out of danger, because Merlin's magic isn't under his own control. And the other him, the spirit in his body, isn't in love with Arthur and desperate to save his life.

So when the Banshee's poisoned claws come within an inch of Arthur's skin, her scream filling the cavern and echoing off the crystalline walls, it sends the spirit rattling around Merlin's skull and he has a split second to decide between taking control of his legs and taking control of his magic. Saving his own life is never even an option. He can't speak the words but for once, being a magical freak turns out to be a good thing, because just thinking of wind is enough to whip away the sound of her voice, to send her hair flying into her eyes, to give Arthur the extra second he needs to sing her dagger into her neck.

And then he's locked in battle with the spirit that's taken over his life, taken over everything that Merlin wants. He can't move, can't speak, and his only consolation is that the spirit can't move either. Arthur turns to look at him, dripping blood and sweat and there's something in his expression, the way his brow wrinkles as  he wipes the bloody dagger clean. And Merlin _knows_ , he knows that Arthur just saw him use magic. Fear and adrenaline combine into something strong enough to overpower the spirit for a moment, and Merlin swallows, asks, "Are you hurt?"

Arthur stares at him, his expression unreadable.

The spirit is shrieking and raging against him, flailing at the mental walls Merlin's put up, and he can feel them crumbling with every passing moment, " _Arthur_ ," he says, almost sobbing the prince's name. It's been weeks since Merlin has spoken to Arthur as himself, and it actually hurts to be in control of his body for this long. "Arthur, are you hurt?" and keeping the walls together, keeping the spirit out of control for this long hurts like bloody hell, it's agonizing and Merlin feels as if he's being burned alive, inside and out -- but --

He spits out Arthur's name once more, panicked and desperate as Arthur crosses the ground between them, cups Merlin's jaw and kisses him.

It's unexpected and wonderful, Arthur's lips and tongue and kissing him, _really_ him, kissing Merlin just a little bit softer and a little bit sweeter than Merlin's ever hoped. "I'm fine," Arthur says into Merlin's lips, and when he breaks away it shatters Merlin's fragile hold on himself.

The other him steps away from Arthur even though Merlin doesn't want him to. He nods politely at the prince but he doesn't check his wounds or fetch his sword, he doesn't use magic to give Arthur a little extra boost of energy, doesn't do one of a hundred little things that Merlin ought to, as Arthur's servant.

Arthur, for once, doesn't comment on how useless Merlin is.

-

Merlin spends the next week oscillating between the all-consuming terror at being found out, his mind supporting his terror by providing images of being burnt to a crisp while tied to a stake, or beheaded in the courtyard while Arthur watches impassively - and then he goes back to feeling rather viciously triumphant that if he does die, then the stupid spirit in his body is going to suffer the same fate.

So of course, he doesn't give a second thought when Gaius opens his door before sunrise, waking Merlin and demanding that he get up. The other him obeys, although with an aura of resentment as it always does when it comes to Gaius. Merlin's got nothing better to do while trapped in his own body than review all the magic lessons Gaius has ever taught him. While it's obvious that Gaius is getting fed up with the spirit in his body, becoming more and more frustrated with the way Merlin seems to be less and less interested in learning about his magic, but the real Merlin is desperate to learn more.

"Stir this," Gaius says, handing over a wooden spoon and pointing at a bubbling potion. The spirit takes the spoon in Merlin's hand, stirring the concoction almost lazily. Merlin, after over a year of being Gaius's lackey and sort-of-apprentice, knows that the potion will burn along the bottom if it isn't stirred properly. On one hand, it won't change the effect of the potion, won't do anything other than make it taste awful, but on the other hand it is yet another display of incompetence and Gaius is going to hate that.

He wishes he could grit his teeth. Instead, Merlin tries to identify the potion. It's not one he's seen before, and he can't even tell if it's one of the herbal infusions that Gaius mixes for the royal family, or one of the magically enhanced ones that he makes for everyone else.

"Now, it's time to add the magical components," Gaius says. "Here - stir that properly will you, honestly, Merlin."

The spirit barely moves their arm any faster, resentfully stirring the potion with a little bit more force.

"Magical components" apparently refers to a golden circle that Merlin thinks is a dragon's scale, and several powders that he recognizes but can't identify.

"And, you remember the incantation that we were discussing last week, for adding the strength of your own power to an amulet or potion, of course," Gaius says, trying to sound firm and instead sounding resigned.

"Yeah," Merlin's voice says, although he wants to flinch at the hostile tone. "I remember, Gaius,"

"Show me," Gaius says, crossing his arms over his chest.

And suddenly, the spirit lets go of its grasp on Merlin's magic, sending him the message _'do it right... or else'_. Merlin concentrates on the spell because the rest of his body isn't under his control, and that 'or else' threat has been used before, and he's not eager to see the spirit take it out on Gwen if Merlin doesn't comply. He feels angry and helpless and he forces those emotions aside so that he can pull on his magic, make it do his bidding.

Gaius shifts next to him, surprised when the spell appears to have worked without Merlin needing to speak the words. "I'm impressed, Merlin," Gaius says.

Merlin seethes internally when his lips move out of his control and smugly say, "I've been working on that for a while," blithely taking credit for Merlin's hard work.

"Well, it looks as if that has paid off," Gaius looks - almost pleased with Merlin's counterpart, a thought so sickening it makes the real Merlin want to curl into a ball and cry. "Here, now, drink up," Gaius says, handing him a goblet half-full of the potion.

"What is it supposed to do?" Merlin's puppeteer asks, taking a deep drink.

"All of it," Gaius chides him, pouring the rest of the potion into the goblet. "The magic's less potent if you don't take it all,"

Obediently, the spirit finishes it, licking his lips ostentatiously as he swallows the last drops. "Delicious," he says, and it had tasted surprisingly good even with the burned aftertaste. "What's it for?"

"Oh," Gaius smiles at him. "It's a banishing potion for hostile spirits," he answers, about the same time a sharp stab of pain hits Merlin low in the gut, sending him to his knees.

-

It's an agonizing two hours, puking and writhing, fighting the spirit for control of his body. But the potion fights it when Merlin can't, and Merlin fights where the potion can't, and then he's sitting in a chair, spitting up the last of the noxious black bile. Gagging, he falls off of the chair, finally alone in his body for the first time in four mouths, six days, and fourteen hours.

Merlin stands on shaking legs, stumbling as he walks. Gaius is standing in his workshop, calmly tying bundles of herbs to be dried for the winter.

"Welcome back, Emrys," Gaius says, his back still turned to Merlin.

It's the first time he's heard that name on Gaius' lips. In any other situation, Merlin would demand an explanation, but right now he walks up behind Gaius and hugs him tight.

"Thank you," Merlin says, before he's almost overwhelmed with tears of relief or happiness or exhaustion. "Thank you, Gaius, thank you _\-- thank you --_ "

-

"You look like shit," Arthur says, charming as always.

He's probably right, which is why Merlin chooses to retort with a cheerful, "But I feel great, thanks for asking," and a smile.

"Is that right?" Arthur says, somehow managing make that sounds both sarcastic and concerned.

"Better than I have in a long time," Merlin says cheerfully. "I can't think of a single thing I'd rather to today, sire, than spend my every waking moment picking up after a spoiled prat with delusions of grandeur,"

Arthur's smile is genuine, and he looks as if he's about to laugh. "Well, I can't think of another useless, irritating, insubordinate manservant who could ever be as hopelessly idiotic as you are, so I 'm afraid you can't be replaced just yet," he retorts.

They grin at each other, and then Arthur's smile fades away. "You're back to yourself, then?" He asks, his voice a little bit unsteady.

Merlin freezes. "I --" he says, but he doesn't know how to continue.

Arthur apparently does, though. "I owe you an apology," He says. "I thought -- I knew -- That is, I knew that it wasn't really you," and Merlin is speechless with confusion and shock.

"I knew that it looked like you, and it sounded like you," Arthur continues softly after a moment. "He -- it -- didn't act like you, it didn't treat me - the same." He looks up at Merlin,  meets his gaze head-on. "I wanted him to be you," Arthur says bluntly, words driving all the air out of Merlin's lungs. "I wanted it to be you so bloody much that I ignored all the signs that something was wrong, but I -- Merlin," and then Arthur stops, unsure of how to continue, his lips moving wordlessly.

Merlin is breathless and speechless, his mind a complete blank. " _Arthur_ ," he says.

"I'm truly sorry," Arthur tells him. "I know you never wanted -- that you don't want --"

 _You don't want me_ , is what Arthur is trying to say, and that's so blasphemously _wrong_ that Merlin has to stop forward and stop him from saying it, grabbing his wrists. His fingers curl over the cuffs of Arthur's sleeves. "Arthur," Merlin says, the only word he remembers.

"He wasn't _you_ ," Arthur says stiffly. "How can I ask for your forgiveness? How could you _ever---_ "

"Arthur," Merlin says. "I'm a sorcerer," and whatever Arthur had planned on saying is drowned out in the complete silence that follows. After two long, tense minutes that threaten to stretch into eternity, Merlin speaks. "Are you going to say anything?"

"You're a bloody sorcerer," Arthur says, "And you came to live in bloody _Camelot_ , instead of one of six _hundred_ kingdoms where magic is _still legal_."

"Can you ever forgive me for--"

"Of course," Arthur interrupts. "I can forgive your duplicity, your lies, your deception, your bloody _treason_ \-- that's all fine when you're saving my life -- thank you for that, by the way -- but Merlin, I don't see how I can forgive your utter idiocy. Honestly, _are you daft_? Did your mother perhaps fail to mention how often you were dropped on your head as an infant? Why the bloody hell did you come to _Camelot_ , of all places--"

"I wanted him to be me, too," Merlin says, stepping closer to Arthur, holding on to his wrists in case Arthur tries to escape. "He got  to-- to touch you and kiss you and I wanted it to be _me_ , I wanted to be the one--" 

And then Arthur leans forward and pulls him into a kiss, and they're kissing, finally, Arthur and Merlin, and it's hesitant and sweet and _perfect_.

-


End file.
